The Thorn in the Rose
by FlynnWriter
Summary: While closing a case, things don't go exactly as expected, and one agent's strength may be her downfall. Emily/JJ whump
1. Chapter 1

**Chapter 1**

The dusky night provided just enough light for Emily's sure hands to pick the lock quietly, and she gently opened the door, barely making a sound. The soft moon silhouetted them against the house. It was hard to see, but not impossible. The two agents pulled out their flashlights, flicking them on and positioning them over their glocks. "We're ready when you are." JJ whispered, her gun ready at her side.

Hotch's voice snuck into their earpieces. "Breach in three…two…one…go." The hinges swung open silently, and Emily followed JJ through the door. The second that they stepped inside, shots rang through the room. They came from every angle, trapping them in a pen of gunfire.

"It's an ambush!" Emily shouted, searching for cover. Before she could turn and run through the open door behind her, she saw JJ's flashlight fall and roll across the ground, illuminating JJ's own descent to the floor. Blinded by muzzle flashes on all sides, Emily fired into the darkness towards the shots coming from her left, and as the gunfire subsided for a minute, Emily heard the thud of another body as it crashed into some piece of furniture that told her she had done her job. But suddenly, it started again with even more ferocity.

She heaved JJ behind the kitchen counter at her right, and squinted through the inky room, struggling to find the remaining unsubs behind the firefight. Her head poked cautiously out from the corner of the cabinets, but before she could focus on the movement, Morgan's voice cut through the commotion. "Emily! JJ! We're here!" In the split second of distraction that it took Emily to find him, she felt a bullet slam into her stomach and force her back onto the filthy linoleum next to JJ.

"Morgan!" She cried. "Hotch!?" It was still dark in the house, save for the white flares of guns going off like firecrackers. Emily shone her flashlight around, and by its stark beam, she could see JJ struggling to sit up, holding her leg in both hands, and trying to stem the blood that was forming a small puddle underneath her thigh.

As she crawled toward JJ, Emily felt the breeze of yet another bullet whistle next to her cheek, and felt the ricochet as the bullet lodged in the cupboard behind her. "We're pinned down!" She shouted into the room, not really caring who heard.

Hotch appeared at the corner, his face white. He grabbed Emily's arm and dragged her further behind the counter, shielding her with his own body. "Stay here." He commanded, and turned to shoot again. Emily could feel pressure building where she had been shot, but still couldn't tell if it had hit her vest or not. The only thing she knew for sure was that she was gasping for breath; the hit had completely knocked the wind out of her.

With a final, silencing shot, the firefight abated and Hotch ran to the girls, panicking as he took in the scene before him. "Help JJ," Emily wheezed, and Hotch ran to the prone agent's side. Emily slowly pulled herself up so she was leaning against the cabinet, and she felt a small porcelain handle digging into her neck. The pain in her stomach was growing, and Emily gasped out loud as it began to radiate through her chest. Morgan turned on the lights as he ran into the kitchen too, and his eyes widened when he saw the two women sprawled on the kitchen floor.

"Emily? Are you okay?" He knelt down next to her, scanning her body for any blood.

"In the vest." She gasped, her hand fluttering over her stomach, searching for the bullet. Morgan looked down, and gently pulled a misshapen slug from her vest, holding it up so she could see.

"Just a vest shot. You sure you're okay?"

"What happened? i thought this…was going to be…easy." She said, still breathing heavily.

"Ambush, like you called it. Our unsub was here, and what looks like a couple of his buddies. We knew that he knew we were coming. We just didn't expect this." Morgan glanced over his shoulder at JJ and Hotch, and Emily saw them too.

"Help JJ. I'll be fine." She was still short of breath, but Morgan turned away, pulling out his cell phone to call an ambulance.

"This is Agent Derek Morgan of the FBI, we need medical and crime scene units to 7684 Elmcrest Drive, we have an agent in distress, gunshot wound to the thigh."

"How far out are they?" Hotch asked, his sleeves rolled up and his hands bloody.

"Two minutes." Morgan said, looking over his shoulder desperately. "How's she doing?"

"I've got it under control, but she's lost a lot of blood."

Morgan sank to the ground next to Hotch, covering his hands to keep pressure on JJ's wound. "Hang in there Jayje, just hang on." Emily watched as the paramedics ran in. One of them stopped and looked at her, still leaning against the cupboards, but continued quickly to JJ.

"Please move, guys," The medic said. He snapped on latex gloves, and took over for Hotch, who sat back on his heels. He watched the medics working furiously, and cringed close to the wall as they carted her away. He saw Emily across the room, her face still twisted in pain.

"Emily?" She looked up. "We should get you to the hospital too."

"Hotch, I'm fine," she said, trying to stand up. She winced again, holding her stomach with one hand and grabbing onto the counter with the other. Morgan helped her up, and she shot him a scathing look as she stalked away, gently probing her side and grimacing.

"She's not okay, Hotch." Morgan said worriedly.

"Why don't you drive her to the hospital, I'll meet you there after I swing by the station and get things figured out. I'll call Dave and Reid on the drive and send them your way."

"Will do, Hotch. I'll see you there." Morgan followed Emily out of the house, and Hotch sat against the cupboard, staring at the pool of blood and the pockmarked cabinets. Finally, he sighed, looked at his watch, and walked outside to wait for the CSU.

* * *

The car ride was quiet until they pulled into the hospital parking lot. "Morgan, do you have any aspirin in here?" Emily asked, searching the glove box.

"You know, Emily, we're at a hospital. I'm sure they could get you something. Or something stronger…"Before she could protest he opened her door and helped her out of the car, and he couldn't help but notice as the pain flashed across her face. "You're going to get checked out, and that's not a question."

"It's just bruised, Morgan, I've taken hits before. I'll be fine."

"Have they ever hurt this bad?" His eyebrows drew together in concern.

"Yes." She responded petulantly, crossing her arms protectively over her tender abdomen. He walked her into the ER and sat her down in a chair. "You have to debrief, Morgan. JJ is fine, I am fine."

"Debriefs can wait. I'm not going anywhere until you're checked out, Emily." His face was stubbornly set, but as he began speaking again, he was interrupted by his cell phone. "Yes sir. Alright sir. But—we have two agent in the hospital, sir. Yes, I understand. I'll come in now."

"Debrief?" Emily smiled.

"You get checked out. And I mean it, Em." He looked worried, and she did her best to allay his fears.

"I promise." She watched his back disappear, and immediately stood up to leave. She walked in the opposite direction, pulling out her cell phone to pass the time until she could check in on JJ. She pushed through the doors to the outside, reveling in the cool air. ERs meant doctors, doctors meant reports, reports meant time off, and time off meant laziness and weeks of PT. Emily had endured the physical and mental endurance of the appointments before, and had no desire to do so again. She assured herself that she was fine…or at least she would be once she got some pain meds.

"Emily?" She turned at Reid's voice behind her. "Are you okay? Morgan said you got shot."

"Just in the vest," she sighed, irritated.

"Have you gotten it looked at?" Reid asked, sitting down on a bench.

"What are you even doing here, Reid?" The pain seeped into her voice, leaving a bit of an edge as she snapped at the young doctor.

"I was looking for you!" Reid responded, confused. "Morgan told me he left you in the ER."

"Oh, I got checked out pretty fast." Emily said nonchalantly. "They said I was fine, gave me a prescription for some pain meds."

"What did they prescribe you? We have time to get them filled before we can see JJ if you'd like."

"I don't like meds." IT wasn't true—pain meds were lifesavers. But it was the only excuse she had at the moment.

"What are you talking about? Emily, you're clearly in pain. Just find a chair, and I'll go—"

"Leave it alone, Reid." She stood looking across the grounds before checking her watch. "That's probably been long enough," she muttered to herself.

"What?" Reid asked, confused by the utter strangeness of their interactions.

"Nothing," she said, walking away. Reid followed after her, but quickly noticed that he didn't struggle to keep up with her driven stride like normal. Instead, she was a little bit bent over, clutching her side and stomach. "Let's go find JJ."

* * *

When Emily and Reid walked into the hospital room, Rossi and Hotch were already there, clustered around JJ's bed. "Hey Em!" JJ said. She was laying on her back, her leg elevated on some pillows.

Emily gave her a pained smile, and edged her way next to the bed. "How are you?" JJ's face was pale, and she looked as if she was about to fall asleep at any moment.

"I'll be okay. I mean, it's not like I got shot or anything." They all smiled, glad that she was back to her sunny self. "And how are you? I heard I'm not the only one that took a bullet for these guys."

"Just a couple of bruises. A couple of days, and I'll be fine." The rest of the room watched her curiously, and she felt the scrutiny. "Just a couple of days." She repeated, reassuring herself as much as the others.


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2**

As soon as JJ was released from the hospital, the team loaded into their SUVs to make a quick stop at the hotel and pick up their bags. Morgan drove one of the black giants, with Hotch riding shotgun and Reid and Emily in the back seat. The ride was silent, despite Reid's tendency to babble incessantly about anything and everything. From time to time, Emily squirmed in her seat, struggling to get comfortable. The pain had subsided some as she had more time to recover, and after a hefty dose of aspirin, the stabbing pains in her stomach had almost disappeared.

"Everybody out!" Morgan called, slamming the SUV to a halt outside the hotel.

"Meet out here in fifteen, please." Hotch commanded, already walking into the hotel. Emily clambered out, pleased at the lack of pain.

Morgan saw the small smile form on her lips, and chuckled to himself. "Feeling better, Em?" he teased. "Oh, that's right. It didn't hurt much anyways."

"I never said that," she protested, "I just said it would get better…and I was right." They entered the air-conditioned lobby of the hotel, and as Morgan turned to the stairs to his left, Emily hesitated. "I think the elevator's more my speed right now."

"Alright." He said. "I'll race you up." He threw the door open and began sprinting upstairs to the fifth floor, making Emily chuckle, and also making her ribs ache.

"Ouch." She muttered. "Jerk."

* * *

As Derek walked out of the hotel room ten minutes later, he heard a thud to his right and turned to see Emily struggling with both her own luggage and JJ's, who had stayed in the car. She dragged a suitcase behind her, and juggled two duffel bags between her shoulders, all while trying to close the door. Morgan smirked and swaggered over to her, pulling both bags off her shoulder. "Oof," he huffed. "Why do you guys pack so many clothes? This is ridiculous!"

"Hey!" Emily snorted. "Those two are JJ's!" She pulled one of them from Morgan's hand. "And I can carry these myself...I'm not an invalid."

"I'll believe it when I see it." Morgan said, snatching the bag back and striding away. "Now come on, the plane's waiting."

Emily groaned, but picked up her own suitcase and followed obediently. "At least let me carry one of JJ's. You have three bags!"

"Nope. But we are taking the elevator."

"Funny, I felt like taking the stairs." Emily said, dry sarcasm and annoyance dancing in her eyes. She lightly punched him on the shoulder as Rossi walked out of his own hotel room.

"Don't tell me I need to separate you guys on the jet," he teased, walking into the elevator that had just opened.

"Shit!" Emily exclaimed, frantically searching her pockets. "I think I left my phone in the room! Hang on while I go get it."

Rossi held the elevator doors open, and looked at Morgan's tedious load. "Do you want me to take one of JJ's bags? That girl packs a ton."

"Yeah man, thanks." Morgan said, depositing the bulging bag on Rossi's shoulder.

Emily poked her head out of the room and gave him a dirty look. "I thought you said you didn't need help. And I can't find my phone."

"I don't need your help." Morgan rolled his eyes, walking towards Emily's room. He dropped the bags on the threshold and began searching the room with Emily as they heard the elevator doors slide shut. He saw her wince as she bent down to check under the bed. "Em, Em, I got it!" He dropped to his knees, face pressed to the ground.

"Will you quit it?" She said, clearly irritated. "I'm fine! Stop treating me like an invalid!"

Morgan pulled his head back, confused. "I'm just trying to help," he soothed, trying to calm her anger.

"I can take care of myself, Derek Morgan. I'm not some princess that needs saving from the fire-breathing dragon." Her glare was stone cold, and even the infamous Derek Morgan was taken down a peg.

"Whoa." he said, holding up his hands defensively. "Is that what this is about? You just don't want my help? You know what your problem is, Emily Prentiss?" The words flew from his mouth before he could stop them. "You're too damn proud to realize when someone cares." He stood up, dusted off his pants, and left the room without another word, dragging only his suitcase behind him and leaving JJ's bag for Emily.

Emily stood still, alone in the hotel room, and reeled at Morgan's words. She was too strong to cry, she knew that, but not strong enough to be impervious to pain. A hand snuck across her stomach, probing at the tender skin as she tried to figure out what to do. It only hurt when she touched it, or bent over, or twisted...really, it wasn't that bad. Another day or two and she would be healed, she convinced herself. The bruises would surely fade.


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter 3**

Emily was the last one on the jet, and as she dragged her load of luggage onboard, nobody noticed much. Rossi and Reid were fussing over JJ, awkwardly positioning her leg this way and that on the couch, Hotch was tucked away in the back of the plane talking to his son, and Morgan sat with his back to them all, facing the window and bobbing his head to the music pouring through his earbuds. After any other case, Emily would have sat down next to him, playfully popped an earbud out of his ear and jammed out with him. Today, however, was far from normal. She walked to the back of the plane, nodded to Hotch, and pulled out a book to read as she sat down, Anna Karenina. The volume was thick and stately, but ragged; it had been her mother's favorite, and she had passed it down to Emily, who had never quite had the patience to finish it.

As the plane idled for a couple of minutes on the runway, Emily began reading, and quickly became engrossed in the deep, dramatic love story that never quite seemed present in her own life. However, the text was long, and the Russian surnames quickly blended together; Emily turned to staring dreamily out the window, thinking about all that had happened. Occasionally, she glanced over at Morgan, who was still resolutely facing away from her, although sometimes he'd talk to Rossi or JJ.

An hour later, pretty much everyone was asleep except for her, and possibly Morgan, who she couldn't see. As Emily watched the tops of the clouds as they swam by, her stomach started to ache again. She reached towards her bag to grab some aspirin, but felt a needling sharp pain shoot up her back, making her gasp and sit up again. JJ opened one eye sleepily and scrunched her brow at the noise, but her concerned face was assuaged by Emily's bright, yet strained smile. As JJ pulled the blanket to her chin and fell asleep again, Emily carefully massaged her back. Another pain slashed through her stomach this time, and Emily leaned over in her seat again, clutching at her abdomen. She could feel the pain growing louder, emanating from just below her ribs. Like the grand finale of a fireworks show, it intensified until all she could hear was the steady pounding of blood and pain through her head. As it consumed her mind, and consequently, her balance, Emily tumbled halfway out of her seat, landing in some space between the chair and the floor, and somewhere in between life and death.

* * *

JJ was the first to see her, and her shriek brought the rest of the team to their feet. Emily was barely conscious, but her mutterings were filled only with pain, not cognition. Hotch, ever-calm, knelt by her side and reached for her neck to take her pulse.

"Emily? Emily, can you hear me?"

"Emily," JJ pleaded. "Emily, where does it hurt?" Emily's only response was a raw cry of agony that burrowed into their ears. "Reid, what's going on?"

The young agent looked helpless as he stood over them and watched. "I have no idea. She didn't show any symptoms before now. It could be any number of things." His face grew panicked and saddened even more as he remembered. "She told me that she had gotten checked out at the hospital, but I don't think she really did. She wouldn't show me any proof."

Morgan looked furious, at himself and at Spencer. "Why didn't you tell me about this? Can't you see? She's obviously not okay." He shoved himself in between JJ and Morgan, and ripped up Emily's shirt to see the damage.

"Morgan..." Hotch started angrily. But his words were halted by the awful colors that painted Emily's stomach. Hues of the entire rainbow patterned the canvas of the agent's pale stomach, the deepest colors congregating just below her ribs.

"Internal bleeding." Reid said hardly. "When she got shot, she must have sustained damage to her internal organs.

"How long does she have?" Rossi asked, concern etched on his face in a pattern of wrinkles and scars.

"Doesn't matter," Hotch responded, jumping up and running to the pilot's cabin. "We need to get down now, federal agent in distress. NOW!" His shout echoed through the plane, a chilly reminder of how along they were in the wide, blue sky.

* * *

The co-pilot walked back towards the commotion, to a grisly scene. Emily's shirt was still pulled up, exposing the vivid bruising, but it was alarming against her paling skin. The agents stood or knelt around her in varying degrees of terror. Hardly anyone one touched her, as if they were afraid to break her delicate body. "Sir, Captain Rogers is trying to land the plane at a small municipal airport, there will be an ambulance waiting to take Agent Prentiss to the hospital."

Hotch didn't look up, merely grumbling, "How long?"

"Ten minutes at most. Less if we don't have any trouble getting down."

Reid looked at his watch worriedly. "Her pulse is steady for now, but she's barely conscious…Emily?" He asked, leaning over her. "Emily, stay relaxed. Keep your heartbeat down, okay? Try to take deep breaths."

She sucked in a breath, but shuddered in pain as her chest expanded deeply. Everyone could hear a gasping, sucking noise as she exhaled, and Reid's face fell. "I think that means there's fluid in the lungs…It's not good, but there's nothing we can do."

"Reid, you can't do anything?" JJ protested. "You know everything."

"I'm not a medical doctor JJ!" Reid's voice rose an octave. "I can't do surgery!"

"You have to do something!" JJ said, struggling wildly to stand up on one leg. "You can't just let her die!" There were tears streaming down the normally composed agent's face.

Rossi stood up, pulling JJ back down onto the couch. "JJ, JJ! Stay with me. She's going to be okay. But Emily needs you right now, and she needs Reid." Tears were still coursing down her face, but she sat silent and still as the men crowded around Emily. Her brown eyes jumped from face to face over her head, never quite focusing on the concerned corneas before frantically moving to the next pair. A pained murmur escaped her lips, but still, she didn't cry.

"I think she's in shock." Reid said, stroking her hand.

They all felt the plane bank sharply and almost lost their balance. "Good, we're landing." Hotch said, grasping Emily's legs to keep her from sliding. "Morgan, open the door the minute we land. We need to get the medics in here as soon as possible."

"Come on, Come ON!" Morgan said, restlessly hitting the wall with his fist. The plane struck the ground, the sudden impact emitting a strangled cry from the prone agent that seared more scars into their minds. Sirens screamed in the distance, and as the plane rolled to a stop, Morgan was already letting down the emergency exit and waving furiously to the paramedics.

As they ran up the stairs, gurney in tow, the team parted to let them get to Emily. Like the red sea, they team was split against the side of the plane, watching as the medics worked to save Emily's life. They watched in a daze as she was lifted onto the gurney and walked precariously down the ramp, and Hotch climbed in the ambulance with her as she was carted away.

Morgan sat back on his heels, rubbing his forehead with a large hand. He looked exhausted, but then again, they all were. JJ's face was blotchy and downcast, Rossi leaned stony-faced against the wall, and Reid paced restlessly near the cabin. The weight of responsibility sat on all of their shoulders, bending them until they were almost broken.


	4. Chapter 4

**Note: To the guest who posted the review who kindly has told me that "this sucks" and you "wouldn't even bother posting a second chapter."**

**Thanks for your input, but really, it could have been a bit more constructive. Maybe this chapter will change your mind...**

* * *

**Chapter 4**

The BAU was empty and dark as JJ wobbled through the door. Automatic lights turned on, emitting just enough light to avoid running into the plate glass doors. Rossi was walking carefully by her side carrying her baggage, but dropped it to the ground and switched on the full lights as they entered. "I thought there would be a welcoming party for the injured hero." He tried to joke lightly, but JJ was having none of it.

"That's because our injured hero isn't home," she said sadly. "and I shouldn't be either."

"JJ, you need to rest. Staying at the hospital wasn't going to help you at all...and Emily would have been pissed."

"Screw Emily. If she takes care of us so much, why doesn't she just let us take care of her for once? Damn!" One of her crutches had caught on a chair, and she stumbled. Rossi caught her and gently lowered her into Reid's desk chair. Suddenly, they heard the clomping footsteps of Garcia's  
pumps as she made her way towards them.

"JJ! Oh god, are you okay?" Garcia's face was awash with concern, and JJ could tell that she had been crying recently. The corners of her mouth were turned down, and her eyes were puffy and bloodshot.

"Garcia, I'm fine."

"You guys were shot! With bullets!" The tech looked down at the brace and mess of bandages covering JJ's leg. "You were bleeding!"

JJ smiled weakly. "It's not the first time, Garcia."

"But Emily...how's Emily?"

"Aaron is going to call me the first second that he has any news. She's in surgery now. The paramedics thought that even though the vest had stopped the shot, he was using such a high caliber gun that the force of it cracked a couple of her ribs."

"Why didn't they catch that? Honestly, I am going down there to give them a piece of my-"

"Garcia, calm down." Rossi said, pulling up a chair beside JJ and leaning back. "We're fairly certain Emily never actually went to get checked out."

The tech pulled up a third chair, nervously spinning side to side. "But broken ribs...that's not that bad, is it?"

"There was evidence of internal bleeding, so the medics think that the broken ribs might have punctured an organ, and the altitude of the plane ride only exacerbated the problem."

"Oh God."

"And that's all we know." JJ said, looking crestfallen. "Hotch sent me home with Rossi so I could heal."

Garcia looked relieved. "I could drive you home, honey."

"Thanks, Garcia, but Will and Henry are coming to pick me up."

"Correction." Will's twang rang through the empty bullpen. "They're here."

"Mommy!" Henry shouted, running towards her. JJ cringed away, laughing and grimacing in pain, as Henry tried to climb up onto her lap. Rossi scooped up the little guy, who was still in his dinosaur pajamas. "Whoa there, buddy. Momma's got a boo-boo."

Henry turned his trusting, gray-brown eyes toward his mother, suddenly concerned. "Is mommy going to be alright?" He asked, his perfect little face locked into a frown.

"Mommy's going to be fine." JJ responded. "She just needs to rest a little...just like you! Did Daddy let you go out in your footy pajamas?" Will smiled as he picked up her bags, and Rossi held Henry by the hand as he walked them out to their car. As they drove away, Rossi walked back into  
the BAU to find Garcia still sitting and spinning in the chair.

"I want to go with you."

"Who said I was going back?" Rossi asked, surprised.

"You left your bags on the plane."

"I'm impressed."

"I work with a team of profilers, Agent Rossi. You learn to pick these  
things up pretty quickly."

"Okay. I just need to run to Emily's apartment and get some clothes for her, then we can head out."

"Sounds like a plan. I'll drive!"

"Garcia, wait!" Rossi called, but she was already racing back to her office to grab her purse. Rossi looked around the BAU, and for the first time, felt doubt creep into his heart as he thought about Emily, lying prone in a hospital in the middle of nowhere.

* * *

Emily could literally feel the morphine flowing through her veins, capping the pain little by little. The blissful ignorance left her cloudy, and also left her vulnerable. Memories flooded her mind, a montage of clips of her life. It was sobering, but also lovely. She saw her friends, her family, and her friends that had become her family. In the back of her fuzzy mind, she noticed that certain faces stood out from others.

But they weren't the faces that she loved, or that loved her. She heard herself scream as Doyle stalked towards her, the clover brand burning in his hand. Suddenly, his face disappeared, replaced with Clive Easter's dispassionate frown. He was soon joined by the Pianoman, smirking and laughing at her pain. Foyet joined the party, idly playing with a knife. As more unsubs and targets slowly joined the growing crowd, Emily began whimpering, shrinking into the depths of her mind.

She could find the faces of her team in the background, fading in and out of the circle of predators that surrounded her. Their usually positive faces now displayed an array of emotions: Hotch worried, JJ devastated, Reid confused, and Morgan…Morgan was hurting. Somehow, Emily knew that she knew the reasons behind the emotions, but could not find them in her muddled head…especially faced with the monsters that stood before her.

Her voice was lost in the silent commotion, and she felt her world slowly collapsing. This was her last chance, she knew. She had to do something now, before she succumbed to the battle raging inside her. She felt strength and cognition leaking from her battered body, and summoned the last of her energy to whisper. "Morgan…"


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter 5**

To anyone else, the agent in the hospital bed looked like she was sleeping. Her black hair fanned out gently over the pillow, and her mouth was slightly parted, giving the impression that she was in the middle of an enchanting dream. A profiler, however, did not miss little things. Morgan saw the way her lips tightened occasionally into a thin line, and the way the corners of her eyes turned down, classic expressions of pain. He noticed the way her hands clung subconsciously to the sheets beside her bed, the way her eyes seemed to move beneath their lids. Things he would never have noticed in their everyday lives, he didn't notice until now...not out of lust, but out of an acute guilt that left him feeling responsible for every twitch or slight movement that betrayed her true pain within.

Morgan yawned as he played with the stir stick in his lukewarm, watered-down hospital coffee, twirling it left, and then right, and then left again, creating tiny whirlpools of the brown, sludgy liquid. He was tired, exhausted really, and could really use another cup, no matter how awful it tasted. Not from lack of sleep, but from lack of emotional stability. Once again, he recalled his conversation with her. He set his coffee down on the floor, and put his head in his hands. He had been so frustrated, but regretted how he had lost his temper...especially regarding the present circumstances. He heard a slight knock on the door, and looked up as Hotch entered. "How's she doing?" he asked thickly.

"I can't tell." Morgan said, leaning back in his chair. "No change so far."

"Well, the doctors said it would be awhile. I called JJ, and Garcia is on her way back with Rossi, so I figured we could update them when we get here."

Morgan stood up quickly, knocking the chair against the wall. "I need more coffee."

"Alright." Hotch agreed, confused at the abrupt change in topic. He sat down in Morgan's deserted chair and opened a the first in a stack of case files, already searching for their next case before they even saw the conclusion of the first one.

* * *

An hour later, Reid found Morgan in the bustling cafeteria. His still, slouched posture stood out in blaring contrast to the urgency that surrounded him-doctors, nurses, and family members rushed everywhere, a flurry of activity that never ceased. Reid made his way over to the table where Morgan sat by himself, playing with his empty Styrofoam cup.

"Morgan?'

"Hey kid." His brown eyes bore evidence of his sleepiness; the coffee had obviously not had the desired effect.

Reid gently set his bag on an empty chair, and pulled another one up to the  
table. "Can I sit here?"

"No one else is."

For some reason, Reid felt like apologizing under Morgan's hard gaze. "I mean, I can leave you alone if you want, give you some space."

"It's fine Reid, just sit."

Reid scooted the chair a little closer to the table, crossed his arms, and let his head flop down, making Morgan's lips crack into the hint of a smile. "Reid, we can get you a bed, I'm sure." His reply was muffled by his arm.

"Pick your head up and try again kid."

Reid lifted his chin up no more than an inch, Just enough for Morgan to see his lips move. "I'll sleep when Em's okay."

"Reid, she's going to be okay. The doctors say it was manageable, she's just going to need some time to recover."

"Then why don't you believe it?" Reid asked, throwing the logic back into Morgan's face.

"I do." he responded unconvincingly.

"Then you sleep." Reid said, yawning again.

"I'm not tired..." Morgan tried to say. But his mouth opened on its own, a giant yawn escaping and contradicting his words. "I'm okay," Morgan corrected himself.

"Why aren't you upstairs?"

"I needed coffee." Morgan said, clearly avoiding Reid's probing question.

"Why are you sitting here?"

"I was tired of standing."

"Morgan..." Reid pleaded tiredly.

"Please, Reid. Just leave it alone."

"You know whow as the last person to tell me that? Emily. Yesterday." Morgan gave no response. "Fine." Reid said, cushioning his head in his arms again. "I'm staying." Three minutes passed...five...six... and finally Morgan stood up.

"I know you're not really asleep Reid."

His eyes peeped over his sleeve, then he sat up, shaking his hair out of his face and stretching his shoulders. "And how do you know that?"

"You were absolutely still. You're usually restless when you sleep. That and the fact that you just told me literally six or seven minutes ago that you won't sleep until Em's okay." Morgan smiled, mildly pleased with himself as he walked away to get more coffee.

Reid rolled his eyes, but stood up to follow Morgan and get himself a cup. When he caught up, Morgan was already half way done with the steaming mug.

"What, is your throat made of silicone?" Reid asked, raising his eyebrows. "What is that, your fourth cup?"

"Fifth," Morgan grimaced. He drained the cup and threw it towards the trash  
can, but hit the rim.

Reid stooped to pick it up, and deposited it neatly in the trash can. "Your aim isn't usually this bad. You should switch to RedBull."

"Maybe I will...where are you going?" He asked as Reid paused.

"I thought you didn't want to see Emily."

"You assumed."

"Fine, right, I assumed."

"And you assumed incorrectly." Morgan said, turning into the elevator bank.

"Aren't you coming?"

"Yes," he said, ambling over. They stood for a few seconds before Reid looked at Morgan strangely. "Aren't you going to press the button?"  
- - -

Morgan and Reid joined the crowd that had gathered in the lobby just outside of Emily's room. Garcia was the first one to see them, and she scurried towards them, wrapping them both in her arms as she struggled not to cry. "I am so glad you two are okay."

Rossi's eyes twinkled over their tech's shoulders. "You knew it was inevitable."

Morgan held her in his muscular arms around her, comforting her as she hiccupped tearfully. "We're okay, sweetie. We're here."

Hotch walked out of the hospital room, accompanied by a tall, sandy-haired doctor. His green eyes were kind, and bore no sign of the varying degrees of exhaustion that stood before him. Hotch stood next to Rossi in the back of the group, subconsciously assuming the position of protection and power. "This is Dr. Page, Emily's primary attending physician. He wanted to update us as a team."

"Oh God, it's bad!" Garcia said, burying her face in Morgan's shoulder before the doctor could open his mouth.

"On the contrary, miss. Agent Prentiss is going to be fine. I just wanted to give you the chance to ask some questions..."

"What's going on?" Morgan interrupted.

"...after I explain what happened to her." He continued. Morgan was unabashed, but the doctor ignored him. "When Agent Prentiss was shot, as you well know, the force of the bullet was spread throughout the vest. The impact cracked her bottom two ribs here," he said, probing his own left  
side. "The rib fractures would have been painful on their own, but we believe that they were putting pressure on the spleen and left lobe of the liver. The pain would have been worsening in the hours prior to rupture, as the ribs jostled and damaged the spleen even more. Finally, the combination  
of altitude and time caused Agent Prentiss' spleen to rupture, which in turn led to massive internal hemorrhaging, eventually causing her to pass out from blood loss. When she arrived here, we stabilized her, gave her transfusions, and fixed the rupture in her spleen, which was actually fairly minor." He looked around at the group, whose faces had ridden a roller coaster of emotions.

"Agent Prentiss can be expected to wake up in the next two hours or so. She'll need to stay here for anywhere between six to ten days; we can't be more specific until she wakes up. Any questions?"

Hotch was the only one who had control of his cognition, as he had already digested what Dr. Page had to say. "When will she be cleared to return to active duty?"

"That almost depends more on her ribs than her spleen, believe it or not, they will take longer to heal than the surgery. I'll give you a better estimation in a day or two, but realistically, I would say three or four weeks after she is released."

The team heaved a collective sigh of relief, and Garcia perked up. "Can we see her?"

"Absolutely. Just don't overwhelm her when she wakes up."


	6. Chapter 6

**Chapter 6**

The blur of faces in Emily's dreams finally began to come into focus. Everything seemed more real now: sharper edges, depth, and emotion. No longer were these dream-people floating around inside her head—as they were getting clearer, Emily felt her mind become clearer as well. She was struggling against the surface of cognizance a matte, flexible barrier that shielded her from full consciousness. It felt like the dreamless moment just after sleep consumes you, where the outside world is present but you are already trapped in sleep's tender embrace.

She was content to stay here until it wore off. She knew that someone from the team was always by her bedside, chattering or grumbling about this or that. She had heard a doctor say that she was waking up, and so she remained patient, listening to the endless stream of talk that surrounded her. She would drift in and out, lucid for patches of Rossi's long-winded stories, and tuning out some of Garcia's extraordinarily detailed monologues. She had time to think too. It was curious to her that she could hear everything going on around her, and smell the tang of antiseptic, but was barred from sight because she couldn't open her eyes quite yet. It was a curious thing, unconsciousness.

She could remember every other time she had been in this position as well. Her first time, after she had gotten her wisdom teeth removed when she was 17, was frightening. The insecurity of not knowing what was happening had faded now, after many other instances, but at that time, she had been terrified, and relieved to finally wake up and rejoin the human race. The next bout of unconsciousness was the first time she was injured while she was undercover with Interpol. She could remember it well. Not even a year into the job, she had woken up to a knife at her throat and a whispered threat. In a standoff with local police, before Interpol was able to intervene, Emily's kidnapper had shallowly sliced her fleshjust below her right collarbone and left her bleeding on the ground as he sped off in a car. That night had been different. It wasn't frightening because it was a fight for her life, nor because it was unfamiliar, but because Em's cover hung in the balance; there was no way for her to tell if she had been made or not. Emily chuckled internally as she realized that the simple fact that she was alive would have been a good enough indicator to prove that her cover had not indeed been blown. She had woken up in an anonymous hospital just outside of London to the bedside manner of Interpol's finest that were standing guard just in case. With a three inch scar to show for her troubles, the next week she received orders to return to active duty as soon as she was cleared.

After Doyle, though, it was different. It had started off full of terror…but not hers. No, Morgan's cold fear had struck her to the bone, frozen her as she slipped into unconsciousness. She had been in and out during the entire operation, sometimes overwhelmed by pain, sometimes overwhelmed by the frenzy of panic above her as the medical team rushed to save her life. The waiting this time had been unbearable. Her eyes were covered, she could feel the tube slicking down her throat, and she was alone. She felt bound to the bed, bound by her past and the loss of her present. She could feel the pain this time too, and the excruciatingly empty hole that had seemed to fill her. When she had finally woken up, it was to the black cloth of a blindfold. Someone had heard her choking on the tube, and when it was realized she had woken up, they removed the cloth, revealing a room full of strangers. Within days, she had been whisked to Europe, and spent her recovery hopping between safe-houses until she could work again. Emily shivered as she recalled the complete anonymity she had assumed, slithering from the shell of an old identity to a new one like a snake shedding its skin.

* * *

What finally burst her out of the seemingly impenetrable bubble that reigned in her consciousness was a voice that Emily hadn't heard in months. Immediately, she recognized the clipped mannerisms and authoritative undertones that filled the woman's speech, even from a distance. "I'd like to see my daughter, please." Emily's mind whirled. What in the world was her mother doing here? Heeled footsteps clicked into the room, and unless Garcia had taken to wearing Chanel No. 5, Emily could tell her mother had walked into the room.

Hotch, who had been sitting by Emily's side, stood up. "Ambassador, I'll leave you two alone. The doctor said she's going to wake up at any time, so I'm glad you could be here."

"Thank you, Agent Hotchner."

Now, Emily and her mother were alone in the hospital room, which seemed to be growing smaller with every passing second. Emily's curiosity guided her to the surface of consciousness, and, like surfacing from underwater, her mind pushed through. As soon as she broke the surface, though, Emily was blinded. Her eyes weren't even open, and she quickly realized that even though she had been able to ignore the brightness before, now it burned into her eyes. She squeezed her eyes even more tightly shut, and let loose a small groan.

"Emily?" Her mother asked sharply. "Em, are you awake?" She waited for a response, and hearing none, pulled a chair up to the bed and scooted it as close as she could to the bed. "Emily, darling, I'm here."

With a massive effort, and in full knowledge of the consequences, Emily peeled her eyes open and immediately tried to turn her head away from the glaring lights. "There you are," her mother breathed, gently taking one of her hands. "How are you feeling, darling? Can you talk?"

The ambassador was impeccably dressed, as always. Her maroon suit was perfect, her hair coiffed and in place. "Mom," Emily smiled softly, "what are you doing here?"

"The better question, my dear, is what are you doing here?" Emily's thin smile grew wider as she realized that her mom was no longer in the politically-driven ambassador mode, but in mother mode. "Just napping." She joked weakly. Emily began to take a mental inventory of her body, twitching and stretching to make sure everything still worked. She winced as she felt her stomach, and her mother jumped up. "Right, I should get a doctor." She said, already walking into the hall.

"No mom, wait!" Emily said, but it was too late. Rossi, Hotch and Reid all crowded into the room before the doctor could get there, smiles plastered across their faces.

"Good to see you again," Rossi said mock-formally, his eyes twinkling in amusement as he shook her hand. "I haven't seen you in a while."

Reid leaned over to hug her, but immediately pulled back when he heard her yelp painfully. "I am so sorry!" he said, a scared look in his eyes. He released her gently and stepped back as if a single touch would break her fragile body

"Reid, Reid, relax, it's okay. Just a little tender at the moment."

"The doctor's coming, Emily." Hotch interjected. "Your mother ran to get him."

"I highly doubt she actually ran," Emily said, smiling a bit wider. "The ambassador wouldn't be caught dead running."

"That's true." Hotch conceded. "If you'll excuse me, I need to call the rest of the team."

"Oh God." Emily groaned. "I have to deal with Garcia."

"Just say the word and I'll pull her off, Em." Rossi said mirthfully. "I won't let you drown in stuffed animals and balloons."

"Where's everyone else?" Emily asked curiously.

"JJ is at home recovering, Morgan is wandering about the hospital somewhere, and Garcia went to get us some good coffee, not the brown water they have here.

The doctor and Emily's mother walked back in, and the merry group fell silent. "Hello, Ms. Prentiss, my name is Chris Page, and I'll be your primary attending physician for your hopefully short stay here."

"Emily, please." She interjected.

"Well then, Emily. I just need to do a quick vitals check, then we should take you to get a new CT scan to see how it's healing." He began checking all the machines, translating their numbers onto meaningful data in the pages of his clipboard.

"Dr. Page?"

"Please, call me Chris."

"What's wrong with me?"

Before the doctor could answer, Morgan sailed into the room and, covering his brooding with a jovial tone, joked, "Lots of things, sweetheart. I wouldn't know where to start."

Everybody laughed, including the doctor. Morgan took his place in the back of the crowd of people, looking nervously around the room. Dr. Page paused his measurements and sat down on the side of the bed. "When you were shot, you cracked your ribs, which rubbed at your spleen and liver. Between the pressure of the altitude on the flight and the damage that your ribs were doing, your spleen ruptured on the plane." Emily's face was white as she heard it begin described, and her hand tenderly snuck across her belly, as if she was apologizing to herself for all the pain. "From what your teammates have told me, it was pretty much inevitable, although…" his face was stern. "The ER doctors would not have missed that if you had gotten it checked out."

Emily's cheeks turned pink in shame. "At the time, it didn't hurt," She said defensively.

"It wouldn't have, at the time." The doctor responded equally. "But the damage was done."


	7. Chapter 7

**Chapter 7**

Two days later, the doctors retested her blood levels and announced that she could take out the IV that was pumping her full of antibiotics and pain killers. To celebrate, Emily threw on the sweatpants and soft gray tee that Rossi had brought her and slipped outside into the manicured peace garden on the grounds of the hospital. It wasn't very aptly named, Emily thought to herself. Though she was alone on the path, she was privy to snippets of two or three different conversations, and she could hear the faint sounds of the highway that ran next to the hospital. Her side ached, but it felt good to be moving again. She was walking laboriously slow, treasuring the late-morning sunshine. Away from the antiseptic scent of the hospital, she was surrounded by the humid air that carried the fresh aroma of nature. A worn bench beckoned Emily to the side of a path, and she stopped to rest for a moment. She tilted her head back and closed her eyes, reveling in her solitude. When she was about to get back up, she was surprised to see Morgan walking urgently up the path, his eyes on her.

"Hey Derek!"

"Emily, you should tell someone next time before you disappear."

"Nice to see you too."

His eyes were disapproving, but a smile tugged at the corner of his lips as he continued. "That being said, I can see why you wanted out."

"Then you're going to let me stay here?"

"Hell no. I like my job too much. Just let me go get a wheelchair and—" Although a teasing grin was plastered across his face, it didn't reach his eyes, which stormed with worry and caution.

"Morgan, I swear to God, I will kick you in the balls. I can walk."

"Fine. But I get to walk with you." His strong arms pulled her upright again, a particularly painful move that made Emily lock her teeth shut to prevent a groan from escaping. Morgan pretended not to notice, and as they retraced the route back to the door, neither one spoke another word.

* * *

Emily was listlessly playing with the limp food left on her plate. Eight days in the hospital was already too long, and she couldn't stand to think of the weeks of rest in her future. She stared restlessly at the lukewarm food, and pushed it away, but with a little too much force. Her fork clattered to the floor as Garcia stepped into the room. "Should I come back?" She asked, half-jokingly.

"Sorry, Penelope. I was just…frustrated."

"No kidding. Do you want to talk about it?" The whole team had been watching her like hawks, but nobody had said a word about what had happened. "I can come back another time too."

"The vegetables were just awful today." She cracked, watching a smile ghost across Garcia's face.

"Mkay. Whenever you feel like actually talking, let me know."

"I am actually talking," Emily said sassily. Garcia rolled her eyes and turned to walk out the door, but Emily stopped her. "Wait. fine, I'll talk, I'll talk."

"You make this sound like an interrogation." Garcia smiled, pulling up a chair to the side of the bed. "Okay, I'll bite. What were you thinking the night you got shot? God Emily, why didn't you get it checked out?"

"I was fine. I thought I had gotten shot. Besides, we had JJ to worry about."

"Em, you can't just put her above yourself. The minute that thing started hurting, you should have gone. What is your deal? Are you trying to compete with the men on the team? Acting all big and strong…we won't love you any less because you got hurt!" Emily tried to interrupt her diatribe, but Garcia was having none of it. "I know you don't like hospitals. Well, too bad. You know what I don't like? Losing you." Tears brimmed in Garcia's eyes, but she ignored them. "After Doyle…you came back. We weren't sure if you would come back this time. What were you going to do? Just ignore it, hope it heals? You can't do that, Em. Some problems are too big for you to solve." Finally, she fell quiet.

"I wasn't thinking." Emily admitted. "I was stupid, and then even worse, I was proud. I knew I should have gone back in when it started hurting again, but I just couldn't tell Morgan I didn't go the first time."

"And this is better how?"

"This…" Emily said, gesturing at her stomach, "…wasn't supposed to happen."

"Emily. Look at me." Her eyes bored in Emily's, the pain and compassion filling out with slivers of hope. "You can't control your life. It's not going to work. Just let it happen."

"I need it, Garcia. I need to run my life. I need it to be mine."

"And when you lose it?"

"I don't."

"Em, honey, you just did. Look at yourself. You're in a hospital. Still looking damn good, I might add…" They both grinned. "But where are you now? You aren't alone. You have us."

"Best family ever." Em smiled.

"So let your family take care of you. When you need it. We're not here to rule your life, we're here to help you live it."

"And now is one of those times?"

"Now is definitely one of those times, sweetheart."

* * *

Hotch, Reid, and Morgan left to return to Quantico the day before, but Garcia and Rossi had stayed, to Emily's dismay. She understood what Garcia had said about family, but this…this was a step to far. Everyone but Emily had insisted that she use a wheelchair, and Garcia was happily pushing her. Emily could practically feel her optimism seeping through the chair, but didn't resist. She was happy to be leaving too. The perfect sunshine of a summery Saturday afternoon leeched into her bones, and she closed her eyes as she turned her face to the light. Dr. Page followed them out, a satisfied smile on his face. "Stop getting shot, or stabbed, or sick…" he joked. He had heard of all of her stints in the hospital, and had taken pleasure in regaling them all with stories of his own experiences. But his face turned stern. "And if you do, get them checked out!"

She grimaced obediently. "Yes, doctor."

"No taking the jet now, Emily. You're still not cleared to fly, and I'll let your doctors in DC know just to be safe, and they can clear you when they feel the time is right. Not before." Deep down inside, Emily was relieved not to be flying. A small piece of her could only remember the pain that it had caused her the last time she had entrusted herself to physics.

"Let's just get home." She whined, covering her doubt with a wide smile.

"Right!" Rossi said, twirling the keys in his hands. "On the road again." He helped Emily into the back seat of the SUV, and Dr. Page wheeled the chair away. Garcia climbed into the front seat next to Rossi, bubbling with energy.

"I can plug my mp3 into the radio and we can jam out all the way back to DC!" Garcia didn't catch Rossi's pained look from the driver's seat, but Emily certainly did.

"Actually, Garcia, I was kind of hoping to get some sleep." Emily said. Rossi mouthed a quick thank you and turned back around, cranking the ignition.

"Oh! Well, that's not a problem, then. We'll leave you to it." Emily fished around in her bag until she found the tiny iPod in the side pocket. As she straightened up, she could feel the stiff pull in her abdomen; thankfully, the pain was still quieted by the meds. Untangling the pesky white earbuds, she watched the world fly by. It cleared her mind, and gave her time to think without interruption. As strains of classical music flowed through her ears, Emily felt disquieted. She had felt it as the team kept her company in the hospital. It wasn't just their suffocating worry that bothered her, there was something else. It felt…strange. On the surface, nothing had changed, but at the same time, there was something different about their essential make-up, like someone had flipped a miniscule switch.

Gradually, Emily's mind began to find the pattern. She sifted through her memory in snapshots: a look here, a gesture there, until she saw what she was looking for: Morgan.


	8. Chapter 8

The long drive was uneventful, but they were all ready to be home. After Rossi dropped Emily off at her flat and quickly left to his own house, which wasn't too far away. As Emily hauled her suitcase into her bedroom, her mind still churned as she tried to wrap her head around the strange relationship that had developed between her and Morgan. She could recall his tongue-lashing word-for-word, and agreed heartily with most of it. But what haunted Emily was Morgan's reaction over the past couple of days. He had been courteous, careful not to upset her outright, but reserved in a way that showed something didn't sit right with him. He hadn't stayed with her at the hospital either, but quickly returned home with Hotch and Reid as soon as he knew she was okay.

She shook her head. It did no good to dwell on something she couldn't fix...right now anyway. Sergio jumped onto her bed, and Emily stroked him behind the ears. "Did you have a good weekend, Serg?" She groaned as she bent down to slip off her socks and sweatpants. "Never mind. I'm sleeping in this."

She stalked into the kitchen, downing two pills. Emily had refrained from asking for ice cream during the drive with Rossi, but in the privacy of her own home, she gorged herself. She scooped a heaping bowl, covered it in hot fudge, and tucked herself into bed, flipping on the TV. "God this tastes good," she told Sergio, who had taken to quietly licking his paws on the duvet next to her. "Maybe I could get used to this."

* * *

"I hate this!" Emily lamented. "I'm a prisoner in my own apartment! Reduced to begging for scraps, at the mercy of my darling captors." Garcia and JJ laughed at her dramatics as they set out the smorgasbord of Chinese food that they had picked up on the way.

"I wouldn't exactly call this scraps." JJ said, leaning her crutches against the counter.

"Just be grateful for what you get." Garcia added, giggling. "It could have been bread and water."

"I'm just glad for the human interaction," Emily smiled. "Sergio's great, but just doesn't measure up..."

"I know one male that could keep you company." A devilish smile spread across Garcia's face.

"Oh?" Emily raised her eyebrows. "And just who are you thinking of?"

"Nothing like that, you silly, hopeful girl. I was talking about Morgan."

Emily exhaled quickly. "I'm not so sure about that." Her admission stopped JJ and Garcia's raucous laughter.

"What's up with Morgan?" JJ asked, limping over to sit down on a tall stool. She pulled another one out, patting it meaningfully and looking pointedly at Emily.

Em sank down in the chair, propping her chin up on her hands. She pulled her hair out of the loose ponytail and started fidgeting with the binder. "I don't know. It's been weird between us, ever since I got shot. Well...you know."

"No, we don't know." Garcia said, leaning in.

"Before the flight, when we went back to the hotel to get our stuff, well...we kind of had a fight.

"You and Morgan?" JJ's eyes were wide with disbelief. "But you guys were just kidding around?"

"No...not exactly. I was just...he was hovering, doing his brother-ish thing. I swear, he was treating me like a little kid. 'let me help you Emily, don't do that Emily, you'll hurt yourself.' " Her voice was mocking, and JJ and Garcia glanced at each other; they were concerned, and honestly a bit frightened. Emily and Morgan had always joked around, but this...this was serious. "I mean, now I get it, he was just trying to help, but he was just so...aggravating."

"So you snapped at him." JJ said diplomatically, already soothing Emily before she got a chance to get riled up at them too.

"Well...yeah. I guess. I mean, My stomach hurt, I was tired...And then he...he...kind of exploded, I guess. Yelled at me about how I was selfish."

"Why that little..." Garcia was outraged.

"Penelope, it's fine, I kind of deserved it. And he told me I was too proud to accept help. Again, true. And then he walked away."

"Yikes!" JJ said, taking a sip of her soda. "And you haven't talked to him about it?"

"He's been avoiding me, I think. I just noticed it on the way home, there has always been someone else in the room with us, or he leaves before I can say something. He's always got his excuses, and I'm not exactly in the best shape to chase him down."

"Better shape than me, sister." Garcia replied, pouring herself a glass of red wine.

"Can I have one too?" Emily asked.

"You know you can't, little miss pain meds. You either!" She said, looking at JJ's hopeful face.

"I'm off the hard stuff." JJ said.

"Yeah, but you're my designated driver."

"Garcia, I still can't drive!" JJ said, motioning at her immobilized knee.

"Fine. Alright. One glass. Let's get back to the problem at hand," Garcia said. "Do you want to talk to him?"

"I just want to find out what's going on between us." Emily said, depressed.

"Consider it done." Garcia said, whipping out her phone. "He'll bring you dinner tomorrow night."


	9. Chapter 9

The next afternoon, Emily's stomach was rolling in queasiness. She couldn't tell if it was from nervous anticipation of Morgan's visit or the Chinese food she had eaten the night before with the girls. Either way, it made her jumpy. She was sitting on the couch, mindlessly flipping through the channels. News, soap operas, talk shows…nothing held her interest for long. A yawn escaped from her mouth, and she flicked off the TV, lazily dropping the remote on the floor and curling up in an old, pilly afghan that had accompanied Emily since her first apartment in Georgetown.

Just as she got comfortably mummified on the couch, some knocked at the door. Morgan wasn't expected for another hour, but he was known for his somewhat extreme punctuality. Emily looked down at her pajamas, and sighed. At least they somewhat matched. She threw on a long sleeve shirt and walked to the door. Peering through the peephole, she saw the back of Morgan's head, and she opened the locks to let him in.

"Pajama day?" He said teasingly. "I sleep naked."

Emily snorted. "So do I. This is my finest evening wear. You brought food?"

"Burritos. You good with that?"

"Love it. I'll pay you back. " She said, stepping aside to let him into the apartment and reaching for her wallet.

"Wow Emily. This place is a disaster zone!" Emily frowned. She had slept on the couch, so there were blankets and pillows all over the floor intermixed with takeout containers and empty juice glasses.

"It's not that bad!" She tried to hand him a twenty, but he refused to take it. "Morgan…just take it. Don't fight with me, I'm injured."

"Ah. So now you acknowledge it." The laughter drained from his eyes, though a smile was still plastered across his face. He didn't take the money.

"Yes, and I do not want nor need for you to clean my apartment for me and buy me dinner. I have everything I need by the couch, so I don't have to move too much. It's convenient to be sloppy."

"Whatever. Anyways, let's eat."

"I'm good with that." She walked over to the counter, pulling out two stools. "What do you want to drink?"

"What beer do you have?"

"Nothing cold. Wait…nothing at all. Garcia and JJ finished the last of my six pack last night."

"Who drove?"

"A cabbie. Jeez, Morgan, you think I would let one of them drive home?"

"Calm down. I was kidding. Do you have a coke?"

"That, I have." She fished two cokes out of her fridge, cracking them open and carrying them to the table. "So what's new at the BAU?" She smiled lightly at the unintentional rhyme.

"No new cases yet, so we're all just doing paper work. I've done one consult job, pretty simple. We miss you."

She snorted again. "Really," she said sarcastically.

"Now what's that attitude?"

"You've been avoiding me ever since I woke up in the hospital. I know what happened, I remember what you said, but can we just put it behind us?"

"Emily, you risked your life for the sake of your pride. I don't care how brave you think you were being; it was completely stupid."

"Thanks, but Hotch already told me that. And Rossi. And Garcia." Her eyes were hard. "I don't need your condescension as well."

"You think I'm condescending? Emily, you are one of the smartest, kindest, and strongest people that I know. But you're reckless." He was leaning in towards her, gesturing wildly with his hands. "Do you realize how many people need you? Not just me, not just the team. Not your family. Your talent has saved so many lives, and you can help so many more. You think just anybody could have attacked Doyle, died, and came back to take him down? You think that other people would have withstood what went down at Liberty Ranch and then rescued the whole compound? Emily, you save people that no one else can. And you're ready to throw it all away…for what?"

The emotion filling the room was palpable; the air was tinged with Morgan's unsettling anger and desperation. Emily sat thinking, staring into his eyes as if looking for the answer in his deep pools of inky darkness. She responded slowly, "I'm a capable agent, you're right. If I'm injured, then I can't do my job in the same way. You deserve me at my best."

"But sometimes, you're not at your best. What do you do then?" His reply was quick and to the point.

"Then…I get back to my best. On my own."

"Why does it have to be? You push everyone around you out so we can't see you when you're vulnerable, or hurting. We're just trying to help, but you don't let anyone get close." Hurt made its way across his face, starting in his eyes and radiating all the way through, visible even in the deep creases in his forehead.

"It's for your own good."

Morgan pulled back, leaning away in his stool. His hurt suddenly turned to anger. "For my own good?! What good is not knowing going to do for me if you're dead?" She cringed, but Morgan didn't back down. "Emily, you are way out of line to tell me that you know what is good for me."

She responded with equal zeal. "Then you're out of line telling me what is good for me!" He recoiled, his own words whipping back into his face with more force than a fastball. Emily was fuming. "I can take care of myself."

"No. You need others. No matter how much you protest, you can't live life on your own. Especially not this life. I thought you would have learned that by now." His tone softened as he stood up and began to pace. " This job…it shows us the worst in humanity. But the people you surround yourself with…they make you remember that the unsubs we chase are just a small part of that."

He paused and looked at Emily, who sat quietly staring at the cream-colored counter in front of her with all her concentration. "I…I…"

"Yeah, you did." Morgan interrupted sadly, not even waiting for her to collect her thoughts.

"I'm sorry, Derek. What more do you want me to say? I'm sorry. I shouldn't have hid it. But what can I do now?"

"You can change, Emily. You can trust us. Haven't we earned that, at least?"

"I trust you guys with my life."

"Really? It doesn't seem like you do."

"Derek…"

"No, let me finish. There's another part to this. You don't want to seem weak. Oh, protest all you want, we both know it's true. You have this persona, this bravado…you and JJ both do it, putting up a front to look stronger. Again, trust. In your mind, we're going to think less than you if you're anything less than perfect."

She was speechless, and Morgan turned to walk out the door, but she stopped him. "No, wait…you're right, okay? You're right. Just…stay. Eat some dinner." A smile resistantly pulled its way to his lips; they had both completely forgotten about the burritos were slowly cooling to room temperature.

"Food is not going to end this, Emily." But he sat down anyways, unwrapping his food and releasing the savory tang of roasted peppers and pork carnitas.

"What is, Morgan? When are you going to trust _me_ again?" Once again, they stared into each other's eyes, struggling to read the emotions that were written there, and to hide their own.

"I just need you to try. If it hurts, tell me. If you're sad, tell JJ. If you need something, ask Rossi. Put it this way: Trust us to help you, and we'll start trusting you back."

"That sounds fair enough."

"It had better be."

"It is." They munched in restful silence for a few seconds before Emily turned to Morgan. Her face was cautious and curious, testing if the atmosphere had cooled enough to inject a little humor.

"Morgan?"

"Yes?" He put his burrito down, thinking she was continuing their serious conversation.

"You're still not cleaning my apartment." He rolled his eyes.

"Fine. You win." Emily grinned triumphantly. "But." Morgan challenged. "I get to bring you dinner again."


	10. Chapter 10

**Chapter 10**

"So what did he say?" Garcia babbled excitedly. She had called from work at around 10:30 in the morning, waking Emily up after a late night with Derek.

"The truth. We talked it out."

"So mysterious, Emily. You can trust me, I won't tell anyone." Immediately, Morgan's words slid across her face like tickertape.

"He told me that I needed to trust you guys more, and if I just let you in on what I need…it would be better on both sides,"

Garcia snorted. "That's it?" After a moment of hesitation on Emily's end, Garcia realized her mistake. "You didn't know that? Oh, honey."

"I get it now, Garcia. Don't worry, I'm fine."

"After a late night with Derek Morgan, you sure are fine." She dragged out the last syllable, suggesting a little more action than what actually happened.

"It wasn't that late," she protested.

"Em, I called him at midnight last night, and he wasn't home. He was at your place, wasn't he? On a school night, too." Her mock disappointment made Emily smile; she could still here the relieved happiness in her tone.

"Fine. He stayed until one, but then he went home, and I went to sleep. We were watching a movie."

"I can tell that I woke you up, you always sound like this before you've had your coffee."

"Wait…" Emily said, groggily sitting up on the couch. "What were you doing calling Morgan at midnight?"

"That, dear Prentiss, is none of your business."

"Whatever, Garcia." She rolled her eyes.

"You have an appointment today, don't you?"

"Yeah, Rossi's going to drive me."

"Change out of your pajamas for this one, okay?"

"But I just got a new pair of flannel pants! They're so comfy."

"Emily, do you need me to come dress you?"

"No I think I can handle it. I'll see you later, Garcia."

"Good luck!"

"Thanks. Hopefully, I won't need it."

* * *

"I'll just wait out here." Rossi said, motioning to a bench. "It's not often I get to relish in the light of day."

"You should try getting shot. I could stay outside all day if I wanted to."

"But you're so doped up you can't enjoy it." Emily had indeed been taking her Oxycodone regularly, enjoying the dull feeling that quieted the pain in her abdomen, and the wild thoughts in her head.

"True. Alright, I'll see you in an hour or so." Rossi simply nodded, setting himself down on a sun-warmed bench and pulling out a book. Emily walked inside to the almost empty hospital lobby, checked in with the receptionist, and gently lowered herself into a chair. The magazines weren't even worth picking up; they were full of recipes she would never use and celebrity exposes she wouldn't be caught dead reading.

"Emily Prentiss?" The nurse smiled at Emily, she was the only one in the waiting room. "That must be you."

"Yup." She said, standing gently. The nurse looked at her strangely, and Emily realized she was clutching her side. "I'm here for a reason," Emily told her snarkily. They walked silently the rest of the way down the hallway before stopping outside an exam room.

"Dr. Hallos will be here in just a minute."

"Thanks." She sat in one of the hard plastic chairs, waiting impatiently for the doctor. Her foot jiggled as she looked around the stark, impersonal room. Tired posters hung on the walls, discouraging smoking and encouraging colonoscopies, neither of which appealed much to Emily's interest. She scratched at a streak of dirt on the running shoes she had bought just two weeks ago to replace the pair she had ran to pieces. Now, they were barely used, getting little use during her stint of confinement in the apartment.

Dr. Hallos opened the door and walked in, a bright smile on his face. Middle-aged and just beginning to gray, his powerful physique suggested he practiced what he preached. "Miss Prentiss?"

"That's me. But…Agent Prentiss. And you can call me Emily, anyway."

"Emily then. So, you were shot? That's exciting."

"Just in the vest. My partner was the one that got hit."

"Is she okay?"

"Yeah, it was just a through and through in her upper thigh. She's on crutches, but otherwise fine. She's already back at work." Even the doctor could hear the jealousy that crept into Emily's tone.

"And you took most of the damage. Shall we see what that spleen looks like?"

"That's what I'm here for."

"You'll have to wear a gown, sorry. I'll give you time to change, meet me outside when you're ready and we can head down to the CT scanner." He stepped outside, and Emily frowned. The flimsy hospital gowns always gave Emily the distinct impression that her butt was out in the open for everyone to see.

She neatly folded her clothes and left them on the chair. The mess at her apartment was fine for her friends to see, but there was no excuse to look sloppy out in the real world. She walked out the door and literally bumped into the doctor as he turned around, reading a file. "Easy there," he said as he steadied her.

"Thanks."

"It's not a problem. Should we get going then? We only have the machine for an hour."

"You're in charge, doc."

"Thank you." He led her down a small hallway and opened the door for her. She slid onto the cool table without question and lay perfectly still.

"I shouldn't be surprised that you know the drill." Dr. Hollas said. "I've seen your medical file."

"I only have one?" Emily grumbled. "I thought for sure that I'd have two or three by now."

"Well, it's pretty full. Took me almost an hour to get through it all…And quite honestly, the death certificate surprised me a little."

"They didn't take that out? Damn. I'll have to talk to them about that."

"Yeah, living people are more of my specialty. Speaking of which... Lie back, stay still, I'll see you in twenty minutes or so. He walked into the room next door, and Emily closed her eyes. She had been here before, and the easiest way to make it through was to take herself to her happy place.

* * *

Rossi was still manning his post on the bench when Emily walked out. She walked up to the bench and sat down next to him in a huff. He looked up from his book. "It went that well, huh?"

"Not half bad. I just don't like doctor's appointments."

"So how good is not half bad?"

"Apparently, ribs are healing well, but my spleen is still questionable. It got moved out of place after my…um, _encounter_ with Doyle, which makes it a little more difficult to heal properly or something like that."

"Getting stabbed with a wooden plank will do that to you." Rossi said wryly. "So, back to your apartment, or are you up to a cup of coffee?"

"How about Café BAU?"

"Not a chance, Emily. You're completely off-duty. I'm not sure your ID card would even work in the system right now."

"Yours would."

"Nice try. But no."

"Fine. Then let's go home. I'm tired." Emily covered her eyes with her hands. "Where did your car go?"

"I moved it from the half-hour parking to the visitors' lot. I'll go get it, just wait here."

"No, I can walk."

"Are you sure?" He was silenced with a withering look. "Alright. Come on, then."

They began the long trek in silence, and although Rossi knew it would infuriate her, he glanced over at her every couple of seconds, scrutinizing her face. Emily kept her mouth shut, but Morgan and Garcia's words were running through her mind. "Rossi?" She asked timidly. Her ribs were throbbing, and she could feel her stomach begin to turn. "I think I'll stay here. Will you grab the car and pick me up?"

He smiled and called over his shoulder, "Be there in three."


	11. Chapter 11

The smell of curry wafted through Emily's apartment, hanging in the air from the Indian food Morgan had brought by that evening. The take-out containers sat empty on the countertop, and Morgan pulled two sodas from the fridge, sat down on the couch and handed one to Emily along with her vial of pills. "God, I love painkillers," Emily groaned.

"Maybe too much." Morgan said as Emily popped two in her mouth.

"Don't worry about me," Emily said. "I'm a responsible adult."

"Like Reid?" His sobering observation made them both look at bright orange bottle with disgust.

"I'm not abusing them, Morgan. Right now, I need them. Next week, I probably won't, and then I won't use them."

"It's just…I worry."

"I know. But I've been there before. It's not my first ride on the Oxycodone express."

"Okay. So, what do you want to do?" Morgan asked, stretching out his legs on the coffee table.

"Movie night. Go pick one out." She motioned to the DVD tower next to the TV.

Morgan got down on his knees and quickly read the spines of the assorted DVD. Every so often he would chuckle at her choices. "RENT?" He asked. "I didn't peg you for a musical girl…and here's Phantom of the Opera…Geez, Emily, can your choices be any more random?" He skipped the stack of romantic comedies, and pulled another case out like he had found a treasure. "You up for a little ultra-violence?" He was holding A Clockwork Orange.

"No, that movie gives me the creeps. I like Beethoven too much."

"Alright." Morgan said, still searching. "Captain America?"

"Sure. Adventure and eye candy is always a good combination."

"So that's why you like working with me," Morgan joked as the DVD slid into the player.

"The captain's humility isn't bad either," Emily zinged back, smiling widely. "Now shut up and watch the movie." She snuggled into the cushions, hugging one to her aching stomach, and Morgan settled in as well, watching the opening credits roll.

Morgan was startled awake an hour later by explosions blazing orange across the screen. For a second his mind was fuzzy, but he soon realized where he was. He turned to Emily, "Why didn't you…" but he stopped short. She was asleep too, sprawled half on and half off the couch. He chuckled to himself, turning the volume down so she wouldn't be disturbed.

Ten or fifteen minutes later, while Captain America performed yet another round of show-offery, Morgan looked over at Emily again. Her eyes were squeezed tightly shut, and she was muttering under her breath. "Emily?" He asked tentatively, gently laying a hand on her shoulder. She reacted immediately, flinching and moving away as her frantic eyes wrenched open. An errant foot him in the stomach and she slapped his hand off of her shoulder as she was scrambling and shrinking into the corner of the couch. Curled into a ball, she took a deep breath and began to register her surroundings. Morgan was frozen, crouching motionless by her side, hands extended and his face shrouded in concern. "Nightmare?"

Emily nodded, still breathing heavily. "Just a nightmare," she repeated. "It's okay, I'm okay." She unpeeled herself from the edge of the couch and stood up, pacing and stretching. Morgan paused the movie and sat down, watching her. She cracked her back and flopped down next to him, lying back again.

"Do you want to talk about it?"

"No, and it had nothing to do with you, or getting shot."

"You remember what I said?"

"Yes. But please, just let this go. Trust me, it does not involve you." She was regaining her usual dominance, taking control. She sat up straight, looking him in the eye. "I know you said to trust you, and you'll trust me…This is where I need you to trust me to take care of myself."

"Alright."

"Alright?" It surprised Emily that he didn't protest; she watched him with growing suspicion.

"Okay. You're right, this goes both ways."

"Okay."

"Movie?" Morgan asked, reaching for the remote. Emily only nodded; internally, she was still trying to reign in the blind terror that had struck her dreams. The memories never stuck around long, but the feelings they brought always stayed buried in her mind, just waiting for her to fall asleep so they could come back and menace her again.

* * *

Emily walked out of the hospital, a wide smile blooming on her face. Morgan, who had driven her to the appointment today, put his sunglasses on. "I take it that means good news?"

"Give me the keys, I'm driving," she responded, waggling her open fingers.

"You're cleared?" Morgan asked, surprised. "What happened to three weeks?"

"I bribed him." She teased. "What do you think? The doctor said he would call Hotch, and I can go back to work tomorrow. Limited to desk duty, but still… and I can drive now, he took me off oxycodone."

"Well that's good news. Can you travel?" They started walking back to the car.

"No, I can't fly for another two weeks. Until then, I'll stay back with Garcia."

"Eh. Soon enough, you'll be back." They had reached the SUV, and Emily walked to the driver's side door with Morgan.

"I want to drive." She said.

"When did you take your pills last?"

"Before I came. Just give me the keys!" He held them out of her reach, jingling them temptingly.

"Then they're still in your system, and I get to drive. Climb in." Emily groaned but lifted herself into the passenger seat.

"Does it still hurt?"

"Just when I move, or breathe, or eat. You know. It's definitely not as bad as it was, though. Mainly just uncomfortable now."

"Hence the limited duty."

"Yeah, I'm not going to be kicking down doors any time soon. I asked the doctor if I could shoot, and he said that was fine, so I'll be at the range most of the time."

Morgan chuckled. "Is that really what you missed the most?"

"Well, I certainly didn't miss the paperwork. And everyone on the team has stopped by at some point since I've been home, so there was no reason for me to miss you guys.

"Well, you can go to work tomorrow, but you get to go home right now…and nap." There were rings around her eyes, and she yawned every ten minutes. "I take it the nightmare didn't go away?"

"No."

"The Bureau shrink is going to have a field day with you." Morgan laughed. "Remember, you still haven't completed the mandatory evals."

"Eh. I can pass those with my eyes closed. I came back from the dead, remember? I can do anything."

"Have you ever actually tried being honest with them?"

"No. Why would I do that?" She said it humorously, but it didn't take a profiler to detect the bitterness steeping underneath.

"Sometimes, they can help."

"Have you ever been honest with a therapist?"

"Not the bureau therapist, but yes, I have had my head shrunk a time or two." His eyes were glued to the road, decidedly focused on the task ahead instead of the woman at his side. They rode in silence the rest of the way back to the apartment, the silence fluctuating like a seismograph from awkward to comfortable and back again. "So…I'll see you at work tomorrow," he said, already pulling away from the curb.

"Bright and early." She said, watching him drive away. "Finally."


	12. Chapter 12

Emily could see Hotch through the window of his office, his imposing figure sliced to pieces by the open venetian blinds. She knocked once on the doorjamb, and he looked up from the paperwork that haphazardly covered his polished desktop, barely registering any surprise. She stepped into the room, taking a seat in front of the desk.

"How are you feeling?" Hotch asked.

"Better, thanks." Emily said, rubbing her side. It still ached occasionally, but the weeks of rest she had grudgingly agreed to had certainly done their work.

"So, what can I do for you?" He leaned back in the leather desk chair, watching her closely.

"JJ said we have a new case." Her face was expressionless and smooth, the mask of a master.

"Are you cleared for active duty?"

"Not fully, just limited. I figured that I would stay behind while you traveled."

"No need for that, it's local." Hotch said. Her nonchalant façade cracked for a second, showing visible relief, and Hotch noticed. He would hardly be a profiler if he didn't. His interest piqued, and he debated whether to find out more or let it go. But he had let her go long enough. "Why don't you like traveling anymore?"

"What makes you think that?" Her eyes were instantly wary, and although Hotch regretted invading her life, he pushed further.

"Your eyes relaxed, and your breathing slowed when I said you wouldn't have to travel. You came in here anxious, but you consciously controlled your breathing. When you said that you weren't cleared to travel, you—"

"That's enough." Her ears were red, and she was twisting her hands in her lap. Hotch rarely saw her this nervous. "I don't want to fly again." Hotch merely nodded, giving her room to continue at her own pace. "I know it's completely irrational, I'm fine. But there's just something about the idea of going through that again…"

"It's completely natural, Emily. Irrational fears are normal, but I don't think that your fears even qualify as irrational."

"It was the worst pain I've ever been in. Even with Doyle. I was numb, then, but this time, it just wouldn't stop." In a competition of who had seen the most physical trauma, it was a toss-up between Hotch's scarred body and Emily's. Hotch understood immediately the thin, inescapable line between agonizing pain and debilitating numbness. He had ridden on both sides, and she had too.

"So now you associate that with planes."

"I don't know if I can do it, Hotch."

"You should tell—"

"I'm telling you, Hotch. I don't need Morgan, or JJ, or Reid, and especially not Rossi to know. I can deal with this, Hotch.

"Like you dealt with getting shot, you mean? Ignore it, and hope it goes away?" His barb hit home, and he regretted it the moment he said it. "I talked with Garcia." Her mouth opened, ready to protest, but he put up his hands defensively. "Let me rephrase. Garcia, who is your friend, was worried about you, and came to me about it." She leaned back in the chair dejectedly.

"And what did she say?"

"She thinks you're frightened, and frustrated because you , and I quote, 'have lost control of your life'."

"So what do you think?" Again, her face was arranged into an unreadable mask.

"I agree, though not in the same words. You still need to go through your mandatory counseling, but we both know that you can lie your way through it. We wrote the guidelines, we can dupe them just as easily."

"I resent that."

"I did it too. We all did. And that's why you're here."

"You're profiling me." She said warningly. Their talk had turned into a silent battle, Emily trying to mask her feelings, and Hotch struggling to expose them.

"I'm not your enemy, I'm trying to help you. We're not taking over."

"It certainly feels like it sometimes." The words came out of her mouth sounding like the complaints of a petulant teenager. She crossed her arms and stared at the wall, at the floor, at anywhere but him.

"I let you come back, knowing what was happening, so we could watch you, and help you."

"What does all this have to do with flying?"

"Let us be there for you, Emily. I'll sit with you on the plane, we can talk, and distract you. You're strong, and it will be different once you're on the plane. You're making it worse in your head. Anyways-''

He was interrupted by a knock on the door, and JJ poked her head in, still balancing precariously on her crutches. "We're ready in the conference room."

"—we have a case to work." Hotch finished.

* * *

For the first time, the team was fully assembled since Emily's fiasco. As she looked around the round table, she smiled. It felt good to be back, and working. She was so useless at home, moping around her house for days on end, ordering in takeout unless JJ or Rossi came over to cook with her.

Her slight smile was mirrored on several faces around the room; everyone had missed her. Everyone, it seemed, but Morgan. Ever since their talk, he had been friendlier, but Em (and everyone else for that matter) could tell that their relationship wasn't what it had once been. She tried to catch his eye, give him a small smile, but he stared resolutely at the case in front of him, looking up only occasionally to watch the screens. Emily turned back to JJ, trying to concentrate on what she was saying.

"So this body is the third in a string of what seem to be politically motivated homicides. All three have been small-scale elected politicians, but that's the only connection that the locals see right now.'

"This is DC." Rossi said. "There are politicians everywhere."

"Hang on," Morgan cut in, "What do you mean by low-level? Most of the politicians in DC are pretty powerful."

And just like that, the team was off. Words flew around the room as the team bounced ideas off each other. They weren't debating, per say, but experimenting—finding which idea the group would support, which one would get shot down. Emily leaned back in her chair, reabsorbing the atmosphere she had missed so much while she was off the job. Finally, mercifully, she was home.


	13. Chapter 13

Emily felt her phone buzzing on her hip, and stepped out of the bustling room where the team was basing their case. JJ was talking with a group of DC detectives, all bent over the files in their hands as the rest of the BAU team set up boards and organized the information. She had left her crutches behind at the BAU, and was limping around the room, earning her pitying looks from everyone that she resolutely ignored. Emily had been instructed to sit in a chair during the flurry of activity, but nobody noticed when she slipped out and answered the call. "Mom? What do you need?"

"I just wanted to apologize for leaving the hospital so abruptly, and not calling before now. I got a call from the State department that I was needed back in DC, and had to come back to sort out some fiasco with the ambassador to the Czech Republic. I'm sorry, I had no idea my back up was completely incompetent. Honestly, I thought he was ready for this, but…"

"Mom, it's okay." Emily rolled her eyes. Her entire childhood was peppered with vacations, school plays, or birthdays that her mother had missed because she was too busy being The Ambassador. She had gotten used to it, almost expected it now.

"So how are you feeling, darling?"

"Better. I was cleared for limited duty, so we're on a case right now."

"You're already working? Are you sure you're up to that?"

"It's been two and a half weeks, mother, and it's only limited duty. You know…"

"Hang on, Emily, I need to talk to someone." A quick beep put Emily on hold, and she stared listlessly at the wall, fiddling with the button on her blazer. A minute later, her mother came back onto the line. "Thanks Em, I'm back."

"Who was that?"

"No one important." Emily scoffed. Whoever it was, they were important enough to distract The Ambassador. "So, what were you saying?"

"Well, I was just going to tell you that the team's going to make sure I don't overstep the limits. I'm barely doing anything as it is."

"I bet you're enjoying that."

"You know me so well."

"Be safe darling. Maybe I'll get back to DC in time to see you."

"Where are you?"

"Right now? London. Tomorrow, I'm going to be in Budapest, and then I'm back in DC."

"Well, be safe." Emily said, sighing.

"I always am, Emily. I love you."

"Talk to you later mum." She hung up, leaning against the wall and closing her eyes. She didn't notice JJ, standing a bit down the deserted hallway, until she spoke.

"How is the ambassador?" Emily opened her eyes and smiled crookedly.

"Traveling, busy, concerned. You know, the usual."

JJ grinned. "Are you feeling okay?"

"Of course. A little bored, but otherwise…"

"Well, Hotch wants more information before we start the profile. You want to come help me with some interviews?"

"I'd love it," Emily said, relieved to be of some value to the case. "Hotch approved it?"

"As long as the only thing you do is talk. No chasing, no shooting, no yelling."

"Yeah, yeah. I get it. Will I exert myself too much if I have to walk up steps?"

"Hm. I don't think so." JJ said, pretending to consider it.

"Then let's go."

* * *

Hotch was alone in the conference room poring over the one of the victims' files when Emily and JJ returned. "Did you guys learn anything?" He asked, looking up.

"We interviewed Representative Hurley's widow and secretary, and they both said that he was a very congenial person; he didn't have any controversial bills pending, and he was only on a few committees. He was going to retire after this term." JJ said, sinking into a chair flipping through her notes. She surreptitiously popped two Ibuprofen, dry swallowing, then tossed the bottle to Emily, who shook another two out of the bottle.

After downing them with a swig of water, Emily began skimming her notebook too. "No apparent connections between him and our dead lobbyist either. We're still working to see if he knew the clerk…Dorsey. They could have met in chamber."

"Okay. Where does that put us?" Hotch asked.

"No apparent connections, and Morgan and Rossi didn't find anything either; we just talked to them." Emily sank down into another chair with a pained sigh, earning her concerned looks from JJ and Hotch, but thankfully they didn't say anything.

Reid strode into the room, sitting down in a chair next to Emily. "Not so fast. The representative that Dorsey was working for was working on proposing a bill, and was looking for backing. He said that Hurley had turned him down, and it looked like the bill was going to fail. It's weak, but I'll check it out."

"What was he proposing?"

"He wanted more safety regulations in high school sports." Reid replied, handing them a stack of photocopied pages. "Personally, I agree with him."

"Wait…Hotch. They lobbyist, wasn't he working for a big athletic company?"

"Yes. Um, Houlton Inc." Hotch said, finding the name in his notes. "But wouldn't they have supported the bill?"

"No, because it is mainly aimed at changing the current standards, which would mean new R&D and production…they would have to completely revamp some of their merchandise, especially football, which is one of their largest revenue generators." Reid said, looking over the file that Hotch had passed him.

"So we have a connection." Emily confirmed.

"But do we have a motive?" JJ asked, looking at the crime scene photos pinned to the board. "Who's willing to kill over it?"

* * *

"Well, I think we have a suspect." Morgan said, his voice crackling over the phone.

"Well that wasn't hard." Emily said. "Hang on, I'll put you on speaker." She said, waving to get the team's attention. "Go ahead Morgan."

"Rossi and I just talked to Dorsey's boss, Representative David Smith. He told us that he was pushed into the bill by Ohio's ex-governor, Patrick Lewsom, whose grandson is partially paralyzed after a football accident. Smith told us that Lewsom was adamant that something needed to change, but the representative wasn't especially eager to take on the big athletic companies."

"Morgan, can you and Rossi fly out to Ohio and talk to him?" Hotch asked, leaning into the phone to talk.

"Actually, Hotch, he lives in DC. I just emailed you the address."

"JJ, you go with Reid…and Emily." He added hastily, seeing her eye roll. "Check him out. Thanks Morgan."

"We're heading back now, I'll see you guys in fifteen minutes…" Rossi's voice garbled over the phone, but they could just understand his annoyed muttering. "Make that thirty. The traffic here is terrible."


	14. Chapter 14

The ride was mostly quiet. JJ was driving, Emily rode shotgun and Reid slept in the back seat. As Emily watched the sprawling city fly past her window, giving way to scattered neighborhoods and department stores, she rolled the details of the case over in her mind. Finally, she spoke up. "Why did we even get this case? We found a suspect in less than a day."

"DC police is swamped." JJ said. "We found a lead, but we had to search for it. All they saw was a pattern, and they called us."

"Not to mention the bureaucratic connections that Strauss has." Reid injected sleepily. "She has friends at the highest levels, not to mention the lower ones as well."

"I hate politics!" Emily interrupted, gathering her hair into a ponytail at the back of her head. "And politicians."

Reid sat up in the back seat. "JJ can we stop at a gas station or something? I need to go to the bathroom."

"Reid, we're almost there." Like only a mother can, she chastised and resumed the discussion in one breath. "Em, your own mom is a politician," JJ reminded, remembering the phone call from earlier that day.

"Alright, I don't hate her. But these people…it's a pissing contest to see who can help the most people, kiss the most babies, when there time is better spent somewhere else."

"They promise to build a bridge even where there is no river." Reid said, sitting up.

"Exactly." Emily said, pausing her tirade. "Wait…did you just make that up?"

"Nikita Khrushchev, 1963, in Belgrade," Reid answered, a little peeved. "You don't think I could say something that eloquently?"

"Hey, hey, guys, break it up. We're here." JJ said, pulling onto a suburban street. They drove through rows of upscale houses that mirrored each other across emerald lawns. "1247 Dasler court?'

"Yes." Emily answered, glancing at the address in her phone. "Ick. Suburbia."

"What made you so crabby all of the sudden?" JJ asked lightly, turning into an enormous driveway.

"Talking to politicians in suburbia," Emily quipped, unbuckling herself and climbing out of the SUV. The house was made of stately red brick, and the wraparound veranda only accentuated the classic styling. It was not the biggest house on the street, but also not the smallest by any means. As limped up to the porch next to Emily, JJ laid a cautioning hand on her arm.

"All we're doing here is talking," she said. "Hotch wants us to make sure we have enough evidence before we take him in; this guy is sure to have strings to pull."

Emily began to respond, but the door swung open in front of them before she could say anything. A man stood at the threshold in pressed slacks and a polo shirt, his expression welcoming. "What can I do for you?"

Reid regained his composure quickly. "Hello. We're from the FBI behavioral analysis unit. We would like to speak to Mr. Patrick Lewsom?" He pulled out his badge and ID, and JJ ad Emily followed suit.

"I'm Ben Lewsom, Patrick is my father. Please, come in, I'll get him for you."

"Wait!" JJ called, stopping him mid-stride.

"Yes?"

JJ picked up a photo from a side table of the governor, his son, and a young boy. "Your son…he's the one who was in thefootball accident?"

"Yes, Neil...last year…well, he's a paraplegic now."

"I'm very sorry." JJ answered, sincerity coating her voice.

"Thank you. He's adjusting as well as can be expected…I'll get my father now." Ben disappeared into a back hallway, his footsteps quieted by a deeply colorful Persian rug. Reid shifted from side to side, making JJ smile.

"Reid, you could just ask to use the bathroom."

"I'm fine," he said, a hint of blush creeping across his cheeks. He leaned against the wall, but stood straight again as Ben Lewsom returned, followed by an older man. Patrick Lewsom was still spry in his old age, and had a face that reflected wisdom and experience in place of infirmity.

"What can I do for the FBI on a beautiful day like today? And please keep it short, my squash game starts in an hour." Patrick smiled and swept invisible dust off of his starched blue shirt.

"We would like to ask you a few questions about your relationship with Representative David Smith." Emily said, smoothly slipping a notepad from inside her blazer.

"Dave? We've been friends for years! Why do you ask? Is he in trouble?"

Emily ignored his queries. "Do you see each other often?"

"I'm retired, but I miss the political arena, so David and I touch base almost every week. Makes an old man feel valuable." He chuckled wryly.

"We had a few questions about the bill you two were working on that proposes new safety standards for high school and collegiate athletic programs." Emily said, gauging his reaction. Immediately, his face reddened and his eyes narrowed.

"We need this bill," he announced, puffing up his chest and stepping onto his invisible soapbox. "Children all over the country are losing their futures to athletic injuries and accidents. My grandson is not the only one. But lawmakers are being duped by dollar signs from large athletic companies. It's despicable."

"Was Representative Hurley one of those?" JJ said, trying to make connections.

"Hurley was an old coot who didn't have the balls to stand up for something worthwhile." He scoffed. "Not like the young'uns are any better."

JJ looked startled. They hadn't even questioned him too much, and already he was linking their cases together. "Are you referring to someone specific?"

"Smith's secretary, Dorsey. He and I debated for almost an hour one day while Smith was in a meeting. Kid says he thinks that it's up to the athletes. He doesn't understand that accidents can be prevented. I like football as much as the next guy, but Neil's accident was preventable. Dorsey pretty much blamed him for getting tackled."

"Dorsey and Smith were both found murdered this week." JJ said matter-of-factly. "Do you have anything to say about that?" Lewsom's son's face blanched, but the old man kept on his diatribe, refusing to lose such an attentive audience.

"Good riddance. They didn't care for the youth of America."

JJ interrupted him before he could go any further. "And the lobbyist?"

"Damn lobbyists. Houlton, Inc. hired him to abandon all of his morals, and convince others to do the same."

"Mr. Lewsom?" Reid asked.

"What?!" He thundered.

"I was just wondering if I could use your restroom." JJ and Emily stifled a laugh as Patrick led Reid off to another wing of the house. Just then, JJ's cell phone rang, and she stepped out of the entrance way to answer it, leaving Emily alone with the son, Ben. He looked ashamed.

"My father's not usually this bad. Neil is his only grandchild, and it hit him hard when the accident happened. We all loved golfing together, or fishing up at the lake house." He picked up the same picture that JJ had looked at earlier. "My mother died a month before the accident, so we're the only family he has."

Emily watched him curiously. "And what do you think of the bill?"

A hard edge entered his voice, and his eyes flamed the same way his father's had. "We need it. The athletic companies just pay off politicians, and get their way. Hockey helmets have come so far, but the latest and safest models aren't required. Same goes for mouth guards in soccer and basketball. Football isn't the only sport with dangerously sub-par regulations, but people are too stupid to see it." JJ walked back into the room, and motioned Emily over to her, a surprised look on her face.

"That was Hotch. We got DNA back from Dorsey's body."

"Lewsom?" Emily asked quietly, sneaking a peak over her shoulder to see whether the elder Mr. Lewsom had returned yet.

"No the one you'd think." JJ murmured as she stepped forward, reaching for the cuffs she kept hooked to the back of her belt. "Ben Lewsom, you're under arrest for the murder of…"

Before JJ could snap the cuffs on, however, Lewsom heaved his shoulder into her body, throwing her off balance and giving him the opportunity to sprint towards the back of the house. JJ landed on her bad leg, and Emily heard her screech in pain. In a split second, Emily tore past JJ and ran after Ben, her out-of-practice body sluggish compared to him. She could hear JJ's slow footsteps echoing after her, but ignored her and the pulling in her side as Lewsom struggled to open the door to the back porch.

In one fluid move, she launched herself at him and tackled him to the ground, pinning him underneath her weight. "Stay still!" She shouted, succeeding in cuffing him. She looked up to see JJ's gun trained on the man, and he saw it too, sighing in defeat. JJ leaned against the wall, trying to keep her weight off her injured leg, but the pain evident on her face didn't reach her hands, which held her Glock steady.

"Oh God Emily, are you okay?"

"Fine, just let me catch my breath." Emily asked, her sides heaving. Her entire abdomen was throbbing, but it wasn't a sharp, insistent pain like it had been before. "Where's Reid?"

JJ looked around. "He can't still be in the bathroom!"

"I'll go look. You okay here?" Much as she wanted to lay down in the fetal position, JJ was in no condition to find Reid either. JJ nodded her agreement and thanks, and Emily went back into the house, exploring the hallways. The hallways were wide and brightly lit, but completely empty of human life. As she turned a corner, she heard pounding and saw a chair wedged under a polished bronze doorknob.

"Reid?" She called, pulling her gun.

"In here!" Chuckling to herself, she pulled the chair away from the door, and Reid fell into the hallway. "What's going on? I heard people running, and tried to come out, but…"

"You were stuck in a bathroom." Reid looked sheepish. "It's okay. Hotch called and told us that he had found Ben Lewsom's DNA, and then Ben ran, so JJ and I chased him, but we got him. Where's Patrick?" They began trekking back through the hallway.

"No idea. He must have run…Wait, you guys chased him? Both of you?"

"Reid, relax, I'm fine. Just a little sore." She pressed her hand against her ribs, stopping for a moment. "Just go help JJ." Emily could see Hotch, Morgan, and Rossi pulling up haphazardly in the driveway, and they jumped out. As they ran up to the stoop, Emily called out, "It's clear. JJ and I took him down. She has him in back with Reid."

Morgan was the first one to reach her, and he didn't miss a beat. "Took him down? What are you talking about?" His eyes flicked to Emily's stomach, which she was massaging tenderly. Hotch and Rossi pushed past her to the back of the house to help JJ, but Morgan stayed with Emily. He led her into the living room and sat her down on a plush chair. "How bad does it hurt?"

"Morgan, I'm fine!" She protested.

"Tell me." He commanded, crouching down in front of her. "Emily, you're on limited duty for a reason."

"Okay, Okay. It's sore, but nothing sharp. I just need to catch my breath." She stood up before Morgan could baby her any more, and she stalked past him to the front porch. She saw Rossi leading Lewsom from the back yard to the police cruiser that had shown up as well, and behind her, JJ limped heavily out of the house, leaning on Reid's narrow shoulders.

Morgan's face fell even further. "JJ, you okay?"

She grimaced painfully. "Not really. I don't think I'm supposed to run on it yet...And I probably shouldn't have left my crutches at home." Morgan took the brunt of her weight and set her down gently on a porch swing. She gasped in pain as Reid prodded her leg around the injury. "I'll be fine, just…give me a second."

Hotch appeared beside them, his face grim. "You two are going to the hospital. Neither of you should have been running, and you know it." He turned to Reid, who had been sitting on the ground, trying to avoid Hotch and Morgan's censure. "Where were you, Reid?"

"He was trapped in the bathroom." Emily cackled, wincing when she jostled her ribs. "Ow."

Morgan rubbed his head, failing to see the humor in the situation. "You're kidding me. You left them?" He was struggling to contain his anger, but not doing a very good job of it.

Reid fought back in vain. "It was an interview. We had no idea that he was going to run."

"And you." Morgan said, turning his glare to Emily. "What were you thinking?"

"He was getting away." Emily said, sitting down on the glider next to JJ. "I had no choice."

"Of course you had a choice, Emily. We were almost here, we would have caught him."

"That's enough." Hotch said, his stern voice breaking through Morgan's tongue-lashing. "You both need to get checked out, and that's period. We'll re-group at the station in two hours." Morgan moved to help Emily up, but Hotch waved him away. "Rossi and Reid can take them."

Emily stood up gingerly and began walking towards the nearest black SUV. Rossi helped JJ stand, throwing her arm over his shoulder. Reid jogged ahead of them, opening the back doors and helping Emily in. His face was still white and reserved, but he smiled back at Emily as she got in. "Thanks." She said, but he merely shut the door behind her and began to go around to the other side of the car.

"Reid…wait." She called, rolling down the window. He turned around, his eyes wide with guilt.

"Emily, I'm so sorry." The words seemed to burst from his mouth, and he hung his head.

"Reid, you don't need to be sorry. Please, you're just making me feel worse. You were right before, we had no way of knowing it would turn into a chase. Hotch and Morgan were just upset with JJ and I, but they couldn't very well yell at the invalids who caught a criminal." He grinned a little, but was clearly not convinced. "We're okay. This is completely unnecessary, they're just being overprotective."

Rossi slid into the driver's seat, catching the end of their conversation. "With good reason. Now, let's get you girls to the hospital."


	15. Chapter 15

**Chapter 15**

An hour and a half later, the group returned to the police station. Emily's ribs had been tightly taped, and the doctors didn't find any more damage to her spleen, which, according to them, was a miracle. "I just told them I learned how to tackle playing football in high school." Emily laughed as she and Reid walked in. Hotch and Morgan stood up immediately, intently surveying them. It was obvious that the men had cooled down after the scene at the house, but the atmosphere was still tense.

"I take it you were cleared?" Hotch asked.

"I'm in top physical shape." She announced, lifting up the hem of her shirt to show them the tape. "and they gave me more pain killers. Anyways, JJ got it worse than I did." Emily said. "She's back on crutches."

JJ hobbled in, rolling her eyes. "Thanks Em. Rub it in my face." Morgan offered up his chair, and JJ gratefully sank into it, leaning the metal crutches against the table. "Apparently, I re-tore one of the muscles in my thigh. No surgery, thank god, but they want me on crutches for another two weeks."

"Ha. Teaches you right." Morgan said. "And what did they say about you, Em?"

"I'm just supposed to take it easy for a couple of days, that's all."

Morgan looked to Reid for confirmation, and he nodded. "It's true."

"Okay." Hotch said. "DC police picked up Patrick Lewsom fifteen minutes ago from our BOLO, so our work here is done. When we get home, I want both of you to take two or three days off to recuperate."

JJ nodded happily, but Emily's face grew grumpy. "Hotch, there is no reason for me not to work tomorrow. I feel fine." Her voice was hard and threatening, not pleading.

"The doctor said to take it easy. That's all I'm asking of you." Everyone in the room had frozen to watch the intense showdown of wills.

"I'm fairly certain that he meant no more chasing after suspects, Hotch. Paperwork probably doesn't count as strenuous physical activity." She said sarcastically.

"You were just supposed to interview the suspect today. Instead, you end up tackling him. How can I trust you to look after yourself after your blatant disregard for your and JJ's safety in the field, not to mention defying orders you were given by medical professionals and by me?"

"I'll be chained to my desk, I swear." She turned to Morgan. "You told me to trust you guys, to let you in. This is me letting you in. I'm okay. I know my limits, and it won't happen again."

The two men appraised her, and Hotch finally gave a little bit. "One day off, Emily, then you can come back."

"Hotch…"

"One day, that's all I'm asking for. Take a day, then come back."

She stared him down a few seconds more, but sighed exasperatedly and gave in. "I guess I don't have a choice, do I?"

* * *

Emily sat on her couch once again, curled up in the old afghan. Her cell phone was pressed to her ear, a grilled cheese balanced on her knees. JJ's voice laughed across the phone. "Why is it always us, Em?"

"We're just magnets for bad boys." Emily joked, playing with the stringy cheese oozing out the sides of her sandwich. "You at least shouldn't complain."

"I'm married." JJ said. "But you're right, at least I get to spend the day with Henry. You're stuck at home with your cat."

"Exactly. Can I come over and play?"

"Henry's napping." JJ said. "I'm finally catching up on Cake Boss."

"Seriously?" Emily asked, trying to imagine JJ baking a cake. She heard a small beep on her phone. "Hang on, someone else is calling me."

"I'll talk to you later, Em. Hang in there." She disconnected with a small beep, and Emily answered the other call.

"Hotch? What's going on?" She asked, confused.

"We have a case…" His voice was hesitant. "I know I told you to take the day off, but we could really use you on this one with JJ out, and I know you weren't eager about staying home…" He was rambling.

"Where is it?" Emily asked, dread settling in her stomach.

"Oregon." The answer hung in the static between them, looming large, until she finally answered.

"Okay." Her voice was shaky, hesitant. She coughed, and tried again. "Yeah, I'll go."

"You think you're ready?"

Emily paused, doubt skipping through her head, taunting her. Was she ready? "Physically? Yes. Mentally? We'll see when we get there. When do we take off?"

"I can pick you up in an hour, can you be ready by then?"

"I'll be ready. Thanks, Hotch."

"See you soon." He said, but his words fell into empty air; Emily had already hung up. She dropped the phone and looked at the grilled cheese, but her appetite had completely disappeared. She slid down onto the ground, staring blankly ahead. Her mind battled itself, trying to quell irrational fears, but it was trumped each time. Emily's hand hovered over the phone, ready to call Hotch back and rescind her agreement, but finally, she convinced herself to go.

As she changed clothes and packed a go bag, warning signals flashed through her head. Each memory triggered a response, and Emily's hand would fly to her stomach, quieting both anxiety and remembered pain. Much too soon, Hotch rapped on her door. "Emily? It's me, Hotch."

"I'll be right there!" She called, desperately running a washcloth over her clammy face. She opened the front door, and Hotch cocked his head inquisitively. "Are you sure you want to do this?"

"Yes." She answered breathlessly. She grabbed her bag, ready to sling it over her shoulder, but Hotch grabbed it and put it over his own. "I just need to lock up." She set her alarm system and grabbed her keys from a small glass bowl on the counter. The door closed behind her with a solid click that seemed even louder in the empty hallway, and as she locked the door lock and the dead bolt, a sense of foreboding settled in her stomach. She turned to Hotch, pressing a reassuring, but fake, smile across her face. "Let's do this."

* * *

Morgan, Reid, and Rossi were already waiting in the cabin of the Jet when Emily and Hotch climbed aboard. Emily sat down on the couch, and Hotch quickly set his briefcase down and sank into the cushions next to her. Morgan looked up from his magazine. "Take off is in five. Good to see you're doing okay, Em."

"Yeah, you too." She answered distractedly, picking tirelessly at her fingernails.

His eyebrows rose. "Is everything alright Emily?"

She glanced at Hotch, who remained expressionless. "Fine…I'm just a bit nervous."

"Nervous? Why would you be…Oh...Oh." Understanding dawned over his face, and he walked over to the sea in front of her. Rossi and Reid also overheard and put down their books, watching them. "Can I do anything?"

"No, I think I'm good for now, but…you know…we're still on the ground." She looked at Hotch, who threw her a safety line, handing out case files.

"Shall we get started?" His expression inscrutable, he began outlining the details of their new case, but all Emily could concentrate on was the tarmac rolling by underneath her as they taxied to the runway. Already, everything was moving so fast, the greys and browns blurring together and making her dizzy. She shook her head, trying to look at the photos in front of her, but was distracted when the nose of the jet lifted into the air. Her stomach dropped, like it always does during take-off, but this time it made her queasy. She leaned forward, heard the conversation stop, and felt all their eyes on her.

"Keep going." Emily said, rubbing her forehead. "Just keep talking." Her heart was racing, and she felt her side begin to ache. Hotch's voice started again, but the eyes didn't leave her back, so she sat up again, keeping her eyes closed until they had reached cruising altitude. Ten minutes later, she carefully opened her eyes. The window in front of her framed the blue sky they flew through, punctuated by soft white clouds.

"Emily?" Morgan asked, drawing her gaze.

"I don't feel good." Morgan slid over onto the couch next to her, setting a waste basket between her legs. He rubbed her back. "I can't do this," Emily said, struggling to breathe normally. She began to panic, her eyes growing wild. She looked around frantically, for what the men could not tell. "I can't do this. We need to land."

"Emily, close your eyes." Hotch instructed firmly. Morgan wrapped his arms around her, holding her close and whispering in her ear. Hotch kneeled in front of her, speaking calmly, but urgently. "Em, we can't turn around now. You can do this. You're healed, it's just in your head. Think, Emily. Think about it."

Her breathing evened, but her eyes were still forced shut tightly. Morgan let go of her, but kept rubbing her back in slow circles. Her head dropped into her hands. "It's okay, Emily." Morgan said, looking worriedly at Hotch.

"It's just in my head." Emily repeated. "I'm fine. I'm okay." She said, beginning to believe it herself. "I'm okay." Slowly, she opened her eyes and sat up, sweeping her hair into a sloppy ponytail to get it off her neck.

"How's your stomach?" Hotch asked, sitting in the spot Morgan had vacated.

She was silently appraising her side, probing it experimentally. "Queasy," She answered honestly. "But not hurting….I'm…hungry. I'm hungry."

Morgan frowned, still concerned. "Are you sure you want to eat right now, Em?"

She looked up, her eyes bright and teasing, though reserved. "I haven't eaten in almost a day. Just get me some damn food, Morgan."

Rossi chuckled, picking up his thick tome again. "Oh yeah. She's back," he said.

The tension in the atmosphere broke, and even Hotch was smiling. Emily sat back in the seat, resting against the cushions. She was back, true. But 'back' was a precarious point at the top of a scraggy mountain that grew higher and steeper with each time she returned to the summit, and ever more ready to throw her mercilessly back to the bottom. But with each trip, the ropes she used grew stronger. Her team became her tethers to life, her support system that would never break.

She was back.

* * *

"Like all great travelers, I have seen more than I remember, and I remember more than I have seen."

-Benjamin Disraeli


	16. Author's Note

Thank You all for reading my story! You response has been (mostly) fabulous, and this was my favorite story to write so far. Right now, I'm writing a law and Order: SVU and Criminal Minds crossover, so if that's your kind of thing keep your eyes out for Tempest, coming to a theater near you in a couple of weeks (ahaha...ha...just kidding. No, I wish. I'm sorry.) Again, thank you to everybody who reviews, favorited, or followed the story.


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